People ask me why we keep going back to Connecticut, for long weekend vacations. Ok, mostly my mom, and I suspect she'll give me shit about anything under the sun, but it still has me thinking why. I've been going there since I was a kid, nothing much has changed, we've seen all the attractions dozens of times, and there's not a hell of a lot going on. Sounds dull.
We don't go in spite of those things, we go because of them.
One of the highlights of the trip is sitting in Tim Hortons, in the late afternoon. It's not about the junk food or the coffee (although they're both a delight) it's about seeing the same old dudes roll in around the same time, sit at the same tables, and gossip about the post office across the street. They're all old boatmen. They hate the Seaport and the tourists, and the wealthy elite. Even though I've never spoken to them, we sit alongside and between their tables, and become immersed in the culture, and it feels like home. I get a weird doubling sensation, that one day, we're going to be old, sitting there talking politics, gossip, griping about SUVs and New Yorkers. It feels absolutely right. I look for the same resturaunts, and the same patterns of sightseeing. We always try a few new things every time we go there, festivals, new places to eat, something, but normally it's all super familiar. This visit, we're ranging as far as Providence RI, and going to Al Forno for dinner.
One day, Irv wants to retire up there. He restlessly scans Craigslist and real estate pages for housing up there. It's a far off dream, we have no intention of moving anywhere anytime soon, but it's a nice thing to think about. A tiny century home set into the side of the tall hill, blocks away from the drawbridge. Oh, fuck yeah. My blue heaven.
Coffee and a fritter at Tims before check in, Margarita's happy hour for snacks and pitchers of margaritas tomorrow! Cab to the hotel, whirlpool tub, more drinks. Late night pool maybe. Kitchen Little for a ridiculous early breakfast tomorrow, then to RI, to walk around, go to the huge mall, and see the city. Al Forno for dinner. More coffee, drinks, pool, tub. Sunday...maybe Old Mystic Village, and downtown walking around? Cemetery walking? Waterfront, driving around, antiques, looking at all the houses, see if Clyde's is open? I love the open ended days. We always have one or two. Steak Loft for dinner for sure. Monday, more open ended, definitely Kitchen Little, Devil's Hopyard if the weather's nice, more cemeteries, and Mystic Pizza for dinner, and a take home pie for the boy. We might be the most boring people ever. Ever. Lots of lazing around in the hotel room in between. This visit, we're not going to the Seaport, or the Aquarium. We just went in October, and turned over every stone at both places.
I think it's a weird part of my makeup. I crave routine. Going somewhere adventurous or new throws me out of my comfort zone, and while it's a thrill, while I love it, a real vacation to me is nestling somewhere I know and love. New places and events give me anxiety, here in my old age. I am within my anxiety free comfort zone, I know what to expect, and where to go. That's why we return to the same campsite year after year, too, I think. I think I traveled enough as a kid.
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